Trifecta
by Exterminatedaffodils123
Summary: The Doctor and Penny visit the strange house of Morgan's Way, attending a dinner with the finest paranormal investigators of the time. Only, when a fissure in time sends them into the past, they must solve their mysteries and find a way back, or become one with the ghostly figure at the top of the stairs... Cover image belongs to Western Morning News
1. Chapter 1 - The Man Who Came to Dinner

1 - The Man Who Came to Dinner

 **(A/N) I don't own Doctor Who, although this is an original incarnation and companion. Please rate/review if you like or dislike, and enjoy the story :) (A/N)**

The dusty silence of the mansion was pierced by a great wheezing, of ancient engines, and of time piercing. The TARDIS thrummed into life.

"Where are we this time?" sighed Penny, as she exited the blue box. "God! Looks like something out of Scooby Doo…"

"Three guesses…" the Doctor replied, following after. "See if you can get it,"

"Well…" Penny started "It's Earth, going by the look of it. 1700s at earliest…okay, first guess. Windsor Castle…1963,"

"Nope,"

"Balmoral, 2005,"

"Nope,"

"…Camelot?"

"And nope. Give up?"

"Yes,"

"Alright. It's 2012. Morgan's Way. Home of famed parapsychologist Allister Powell, or…Doctor, Allister Powell, to be precise. The problem is, he has a ghost, at the top of his stairs. Except he doesn't. It's a Schrodinger's Cat sort of deal. Anyway, he's stumped. So, he's calling a dinner around, for all his ghost-busting friends. To see if they can solve the mystery of the ghost who wasn't there,"

"And we've been invited?"

"I have. You're my plus one. Dinner for two?"

The dining room was alive with the clatter of cutlery on plates, distant chatter, the works.

It was a strange menagerie of guests, that was for certain – a tall man, more like a stick insect than a human, slowly sipped at a glass of wine, whilst a short, round woman gobbled down a roast potato. A man sat opposite Penny, quietly reading a book under the table, glanced up at her for a second, and she saw his eyes – one brown, one blue. Heterochromia, she remembered, from a dusty old textbook in a dull science lesson.

Penny looked over to the Doctor, sat at her right, chomping away and in the middle of a conversation.

"Doctor?"

He turned around, smiling.

"What's up?"

"Who are these people?"

"Well…" The Doctor started, pointing to each person as he identified them. "That's Doctor Alice McCarthy, from Oxford. Professors Henderson and Doyle, famous supernaturalists from the 80s. And that, over there in the armchair, is-"

The Doctor was cut off by a chinking of glass, coming from the head of the table. A withered man, the flesh hanging off of his bones, with a large brown scar running across his right hand, rose to his feet, glass and fork in hand.

"If I could have your attention please…" he said, each syllable only a scant gasp of air. "Then I'd like to turn your attention to the projector,"

A light came on in the ceiling, and a perfect square of white light hit the wall opposite.

"The occurrences started this time last year. Every night, at 9 o'clock sharp, at the top of the stairs. Not a figure, not a spectre, just a…sensation. An existence, that can't be explained, by anyone or anything. Care to hazard a guess?"

Penny turned to the Doctor.

"We would," she said.

"Okay, now do exactly as I say," the Doctor warned, his arm extended in front of him, keeping Penny at the foot of the stairs. "At a guess, this is a temporal disruption, which are about as unpredictable as a bus service,"

"Got it," Penny nodded.

"Good. Nine o'clock, did you say?"

"Correct," Powell murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

"Alright then. Not long to go…how long does it stay open for?"

"For how long does it stay open?" corrected Powell, a hint of disapproval in his voice. "And, to answer, no more than a minute,"

The Doctor clapped his hands together in excitement.

"Marvellous!" he cried, before silencing himself as Penny glared. "We'll play it by ear, then…"

Suddenly, a candle began to flicker, the orange cone wavering slightly. It wobbled some more, before extinguishing in a sudden breath of wind.

"Oh," Penny sighed. "That's not good…"

"Penny, keep back…" the Doctor muttered, as he began to climb the stairs slowly.

"Doctor, please, be careful!" groaned Powell, gasping through ragged breaths.

"It's quite alright," he replied "I'm rather used to this sort of-"

The Doctor didn't reply. To be more precise, he _couldn't_ reply. Mainly because, he wasn't there anymore. Brilliant white light, flickering like tongues of flame, played through the air, erratic and wild. One nicked the Doctor on his hand, and he was gone, in a flash of light.

The menagerie at the foot of the stairs gasped in surprise, stepping back from the bizarre spectacle. Except for Penny, naturally.

"Doctor!" she called out, breaking free from the crowd. No reply came – only the sound of the white light scorching the air around it. Shaking her head in disbelief, Penny ran up the stairs, leaping off of the first step and flying through the air.

In a second, she touched the light as well, and vanished just as quickly.


	2. Chapter 2 - Back in Time

2 – Back In Time

The Doctor groaned quietly, as he raised his head from the ground an inch or two, before crumbling under the stress and lowering it again. The sunlight pouring in through the windows blinded him, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut. Most likely, he'd hit his head, hence the pain and confusion.

Where was he? After a few seconds, he thought about the answer, and couldn't find one. Okay, retrace your steps, then. We were…in the TARDIS, then…Morgan's Way, then dinner, then…the stairs! We had been on the stairs! But then what?

To give himself a rest, the Doctor sat himself up slowly, and realised where he was – the foot of the stairs. His feet were suspended above him, resting upon the steps, whilst his torso and cranium lay on the floor. Maybe he'd slipped? No, something felt wrong…different, somehow. The house…something was different about the house.

The walls were the same, the paintings displayed between every door were the same, and the dark mahogany floor was the same. So what was? With a dawn of realisation, the Doctor figured it out – it was daytime now. It was nine at night, last thing he remembered.

For some reason, that didn't quell his anxiety. There was still something wrong, but this was instinct. Irrational, unexplainable instinct.

By this point, he was able to rise to his feet and take in the surroundings.

There was a slight gust rushing through the house, presumably the result of a few open doors and windows, to let in the cool summer air. Birdsong twittered in the background, a few pigeons and pheasants, probably. And, most notably, there was a man, dressed in a crisp black and white suit, smart black dress shoes and a thin curl of jet black hair traced over his teetering on bald head.

"Who the hell are you?!" the man exclaimed, his face screwing up with more irritation than anything else.

"I'm…the Doctor," came the tentative reply. "I think I might be lost…"

"I'd say you are! Are you on the guest list?!"

"I don't…sorry, what? What guest list?"

"For the party!" the man barked in response.

The Doctor stopped for a second, taking this in.

"Alright, I'm definitely lost. What party?"

"That's a no, then. Get off the premises immediately,"

"Oh! _That_ party! No, I won't be on the guest list, but I've got an invite…hold on…" the Doctor replied eagerly, as he dug around in his pockets. "Here you go!"

He handed over the sleek black wallet, that contained the psychic paper.

"Doctor John Smith, from Tyneside…yes, alright," the man conceded, handing back the wallet. "I'm Jenkins, Mr Baden's butler,"

"And tell me, Jenkins…is this Morgan's Way?"

"Naturally, sir," Jenkins answered, an unnatural grin on his face, exposing the yellow and crooked teeth inside.

"Right…" the Doctor breathed, mostly to himself. "And, this is going to be a weird 'and', but could you tell me the date?"

"Sunday 20th April, sir,"

"Right…and the year?"

"Started on the drinks early, sir?"

The Doctor stopped, before he could dig himself further into this hole.

"Yes, I suppose so," he chuckled back, feigning some humour. "You couldn't fetch me a newspaper, could you?"

"Here you are, sir," Jenkins said, producing a copy of the Times from seemingly nowhere.

The Doctor scoured the broadline of the paper, searching for the date. Jenkins was right – Sunday, 20th April…

….1924.

A bolt of lightning cracked through the sky, waking Penny up in a split second.

She pushed herself away from the green, staring at the large oak tree in front of her. Suddenly, a few drops of water fell from the sky – rain. Great. After a few moments, the precipitation began to increase, until it was firing down on the ground below, like a hail of bullets from a spitfire.

"Oh, great…" muttered Penny, as she hauled herself to her feet and ran over to the tree. Using the branches as cover, she pulled out her phone and dialled in the Doctor's number. Nothing. She checked the phone, the white screen illuminating the night around her. No signal.

Beams of light began to flare in the sky, and growls of thunder roared above her, prompting her to shiver slightly.

A single strike of lightning hit the oak tree, and a branch snapped away with a crack. It fell towards the ground in a single motion, towards Penny…


	3. Chapter 3 - Finding Your Feet

3 – Finding Your Feet

The branch hit the ground with a thud, bursting into flames a second later.

A metre to it's side, Penny lay on the sodden grass, gasping for breath. Just a moment earlier, she'd been pushed there, by someone. Or something…

"Don't you know to never stand under a tree in a thunderstorm?" asked a voice, emanating from the darkness.

"Er…no, apparently," Penny shot back, now even more confused than before. "Who are you?"

A figure approached the flaming log, the orange haze illuminating him. Stocky, muscular, piercing grey eyes with cropped black hair.

"I'm Balthazar," the figure, offering his hand to Penny. She grabbed it, and he heaved her to her feet in one fluid motion.

"Penny," she replied, regaining her balance slowly. For a second, the duo stood around the burning log, Balthazar transfixed by it.

"So…where's Melchior and Caspar?" Penny joked, a small grin breaking out on her face. Needless to say, the joke fell flat – Balthazar simply tilted his head in confusion. "Never mind…" she muttered in defeat.

"You'll catch your death out here in the rain," Balthazar said, changing the subject. "Come on…we have to get back inside, or you'll be totally drenched,"

And with that, the pair ran away from the tree, their feet pounding at the ground, towards the glowing windows of the house.

The Doctor strode across the pristine lawn, towards the small group assembled over by the greenhouse.

"Who's this, now?" barked Miss Tomlinson, the wife of a born millionaire. "Another free-loader, I suppose?"

"Now, now, Letitia…" chided Thomas, the seldom-known lord of somewhere-or-other. "Don't judge a book by it's cover…"

"Hello!" yelled the Doctor from a few yards away, waving his arms wildly in an exaggerated wave. "I'm the Doctor!"

"Charming…" muttered Julian, a theatre director, whilst the Doctor was still out of earshot. However, a second later, the stranger was met with: "How nice to meet you!", complete with extended palm.

The Doctor happily shook the hand…before crying out in pain for a second.

He retracted his hand, examining it. In the centre of his palm, there was a red mark, in the shape of a triangle encased in a circle. Gingerly, he tapped it with his left index finger, and winced.

"Looks like a burn," commented Miss Tomlinson, peering over the Doctor's shoulder. "Funny-looking one, too,"

"Yes, it is…" the Doctor murmured. "Sorry, where are my manners? Doctor John Smith," he said, offering his left hand, this time. "So…which of you is Baden?"

"Master of the House?" quipped Thomas. "Probably in his study at the moment, finishing up on his work. That's our Jack…"

"Yes, well, all works and no play makes Jack a dull lad, eh?" the Doctor replied. "Shall I go fetch him?"

"Leave him to it!" chortled Julien, sipping the martini from the glass. "Jenkins will let us know,"

Naomi Chambers, Baden's maid, tottered along the corridor, towards the study.

Slowly, she raised a fist to the door, and gently rapped upon it:

"Mr Baden?" she called. "Jenkins wanted me to tell you that the party has started!"

No reply.

"Mr Baden?"

Still nothing.

Naomi produced the key from her pocket, and inserted into the lock, twisting it to unlock the door. It clicked, and the door swung open.

Baden lay dead on the floor, his arms and legs forming a cross on the floor. Blood seeped from a wound on his chest, a large, jagged length of metal protruding from his chest.

Naomi dropped the key, and let out a blood-curdling scream…


	4. Chapter 4 - The Plot Thickens

4 – The Plot Thickens

Penny slammed the door behind her, sealing out the howling wind and rain.

"Balthazar? Who's this?" asked a chambermaid, holding a candle lantern aloft.

"I found her in the grounds, almost crushed by the tree," Balthazar replied, peeling off his dripping coat. "Be a lamb and fetch something hot, will you?"

"Of course, Balthazar," the chambermaid said, scurrying off down a corridor.

"Come on, Penelope," he muttered, opening the nearest door.

"Oh, Balthazar?" called the chambermaid. "Have you seen Lady Dorothy about anywhere? I can't find her for love nor money!"

"No, I haven't. I'll keep an eye out, though…"

"Look…" Penny interjected "This is going to sound like a silly question, but where am I?"

"You're right…that is a silly question. Then again…it was a dark night, easy to lose your way. You're in Morgan's Way,"

"Really? What's the date?"

"You really have been lost…19th November. Do you want the year, as well?" he asked, poking fun.

"Yeah, alright," Penny replied.

Balthazar was shaken for a second, but soon recovered himself.

"It's…1831,"

Penny's eyes widened.

"What?"

The Doctor thundered down the corridor, the rest of the party not long behind him.

"Doctor Smith!" gurgled Miss Tomlinson, barely keeping up as she straggled along at the ear.

The party hit the office door, the Doctor the first at the scene. Slowly, he peered inside, examining the body for a second, before turning to face the group.

"Call the police," he ordered, stepping into the study. He padded around the body, careful not to step in any of the somewhat large puddle of blood forming on the wooden floor. He stopped. What was that in his chest? Suddenly, a magnifying glass was produced from the Doctor's pocket, and he peered at the end of the shard pointing away from the corpse. On it, there was a symbol, carved into the flat surface. Of a triangle, encased in a circle.

The Doctor groaned.

"Oh, this is not good…" he muttered to himself, replacing the magnifying glass. "Actually, change of plan," he called to group, as he pulled out the psychic paper. "I'm a detective. Deep under cover, only to be used in emergencies,"

"Chief Inspector John Smith?" Thomas read from the badge.

"Undercover as a Doctor," the Doctor answered. "And now, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you all to vacate the scene of the crime whilst I…chief inspect,"

"Very well," said Julien, as he led the others away. "It's like an Agatha Christie story…"

"What's happening?!" panted Miss Tomlinson, as she finally caught up to the office.

"Jenkins will fill you in…" the Doctor muttered, slamming the study door shut, whilst he snapped on a pair of white gloves.

First things first; was he actually dead? The Doctor placed his index and middle finger on Baden's neck – no pulse. Next, fingers in the space between the mouth and nose – no breath. Looking good for dead…

Next, the Doctor reached over the body, and held onto the shard of metal. It was hot to the touch, like it had been in a furnace. And a very powerful furnace at that. He tapped the end of the metal rod, and the top slid open slowly.

"What's this, then…" the Doctor murmured, peering into the rod. There was a small space in the shard, running the length down and an inch or so in diameter. Inside was a small scroll of paper, rolled up tightly.

The Doctor rummaged around in his pocket for a second, and pulled out a pair of tweezers, the sort you'd get from a Christmas cracker. Like a bomb being defused, he extracted the role of paper, before standing back.

As he unrolled it, the ink smeared over his hands – it was still fresh.

"Oh…" he said, as he began to read. "That's new…"

"Lady Dorothy!" called the chambermaid, her words echoing throughout the house.

Penny sighed, as she tied her hair up into a ponytail. The last thing she needed was little flecks of rainwater flying into her face every time she turned around.

"I'll just fetch the stew…" Balthazar said, about to head down the hallway, when:

A scream. Ringing through the night.

"Oh, no…" moaned Balthazar, setting off down the corridor.

"Wait for me!" Penny called, limping haphazardly after him, hands still fixing her hair.

Balthazar and Penny arrived in the entrance hall, to find the chambermaid frozen in place, hands covering mouth in shock. A wooden door, leading to a spare cupboard, was wide open. And on the floor, having fallen out of the cupboard, was the motionless, pale and limp body…of Lady Dorothy. Her eyes wide with fear, her mouth slightly open in a silent cry for help…and two small puncture marks, scarlet red, on her neck, about an inch apart.

There was a knocking at the door, and Penny was shaken back to reality.

"I'll get it…" she mumbled, walking over to the door. "Hello?" she asked, as she tugged on the rope handle and opened the door a crack.

However, a force from the other side of the door pushed on it, sending her flying backwards a few feet.

"Oh, thank the lord…" sighed the force, still behind the door. "I thought I'd missed it…"

The force moved from behind the door – and his eyes, one brown, one blue fell upon Penny.

"I've got a very important message for you…"


	5. Chapter 5 - Back and Forth

5 – Back and Forth

The Doctor ran across the green, arms extended out in front of him.

"What does he want now?" sighed Jenkins, putting down the tray of drinks. The strange man had reached the drinks party by now, and had stopped, panting to catch his breath.

"Detective!" Julien said. "What can we do for you?"

The Doctor didn't reply – instead, he grabs Julien's head, and stared at his eyes for a second.

"No…" the Doctor muttered, before moving on to Jenkins – again, not right.

"What are you doing?!" squealed Miss Tomlinson, as the Doctor performed this strange ritual on her, and then Naomi. Both wrong.

Finally, the Doctor reached Thomas, the last person in the group, and a small grin emerged on the Time Lord's face.

"Your eyes…" he whispered, mostly to himself, before adding: "Thomas, I'll need to talk with you in private. Would you like to accompany me to the library?"

A few minutes later, the two men were sat in the library, surrounded by reams and reams of books upon ornate shelves.

"Look, if this about an alibi," Thomas started. "I was by the gravestone, with Letitia,"

"No, it's not about th – gravestone?"

"Yes, it's been on the grounds for years. Nobody seems to know where it's from, it's just…there,"

"Right. Interesting. Not, er, no, it's not about the murder. Not yet, anyway,"

"Then what is it about?

"Heterochromia," the Doctor said, pacing up and down the library. "Quite a rare medical condition. One eye is one colour, the other different,"

"Is that what it's called?" asked Thomas, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. However, before he could light it, the Doctor stopped him.

"It can also be a symptom…of achronia,"

"I'm sorry?

"Achronia. Much rarer condition, one in every hundred billion have it. It means you move through time in retrograde. Backwards. Not only that, you live for hundreds of years, and never age,"

Thomas dropped the cigarette, his hands numb all of a sudden.

"How did you know?" he asked, looking up at the Doctor, who produced the note in response.

"This. It's a note…dated around 90 years ago. 93, to be precise. It's from my friend, Penny…"

Penny slammed the door shut again, as the man walked into the hall.

"I'm Thomas, Thomas Lloyd," he said, shaking himself dry a little. "You might recognise me, my dear,"

"It's you!" Penny cried, fully in surprise. "From…from the dinner party!"

"Yes…" Thomas replied, glancing at Balthazar, the chambermaid and the body. "Perhaps we could go somewhere more private?"

The library. Where else?

Thomas locked the door, checking it was sealed before turning to face Penny.

"Your friend, the Doctor? I've got a message from him,"

"Where is he?" Penny asked, before correcting herself: " _When_ is he?"

"Smart girl. Same place, different time. 1924,"

"So…what's the plan? Wait it out? Because, living to 117 doesn't look too good, especially 120 years away from the NHS,"

"Well, the Doctor told me to tell you to tell him to tell me…alright, hang on, I'm going cross-eyed. He told me that you wrote a note, or will write a note for him, and leave it in the murder weapon,"

"What murder?"

Thomas sighed, remembering himself.

"It…happened in the Doctor's time. It's…around a foot long, jagged, metal. The Doctor said it will be always warm by this point, or that's what you put in the note, at least,"

"Hang on, what note?"

"You'll have to write that, before you finish here. That's what he said,"

Taking in the news, Penny turned around, leaning on the table to steady herself.

"He also said…check your hand,"

"Which one?"

"You'll see,"

Penny tilted her head for a second, before placing her hands out in front of her, palms down. Nothing. She twisted her wrists, rotating the hands. On her right palm, there was a red mark, faintly imprinted into her flesh. A triangle encased in a circle.

"What is this?"

"The Doctor told me it was the mark, the symbol of the time disruption. It was on the murder weapon, and it's on his hand too. And…I think that's everything,"

"Actually, one more thing…" Penny started. "How did you get back here? Was there another portal?"

Thomas smiled to himself.

"Not quite," he replied. "I'm…I'm an achronist. I move backwards through time, same pace as humans, just in reverse. The murder with the Doctor, that's years ago for me. The man on the stairs thing, even further back. Now, the Doctor. He told me that you have to finish the job here, before you can go back, and that you'll know what you have to do. It'll be obvious to you,"

"Well it isn't at the moment!" Penny protested.

"I don't know anymore," Thomas said, rising from his seat. "I'm sorry,". He turned to leave.

"How did the Doctor know all this?" Penny, stopping him.

"He said it was in the note,"

Penny paused for a second, before putting her hand in her pocket.

"Before you go…" she said, pulling out a notepad and pen. "I'm going to write that note. You might have the memory of an elephant, but I definitely don't,"

"Alright, then…" sighed Thomas, sitting back down in his chair, as Penny began to write…

Ten minutes later, the two emerged from the library, the note folded up and placed in Penny's pocket.

"I'll have to leave you now," said Thomas, putting his coat on. "I can't help you anymore. The Doctor told me not to, actually. Corrupt the timeline, something along those lines,"

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Balthazar burst through, grabbing Thomas by the shoulders and slamming him against the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Penny yelled, trying to shove Balthazar away, but to no avail.

"Come on…" muttered Balthazar. "You saw the wounds on the neck, the state of the body. You know what it means. A vampire,"

Penny backed away, stymied for a second.

"Don't be daft…there's no such thing as vampires," she said, shaking her head.

"Trust me…" Balthazar replied. "I've fought enough in my time. I've learned to recognise one on sight!"

Balthazar drew something out of his side, probably a concealed sheath in the trousers.

"Special kit for the job…" he muttered to Penny. "Had it custom made. Perfect for staking…"

The weapon was about a foot long, thin, and made of jagged metal. And on the flat surface, there was a symbol – a triangle encased in a circle…


	6. Chapter 6 - The Foot of the Stairs

6 – The Foot of the Stairs

Jenkins, suit still perfect and shoes still shined, approached the Doctor, the latter stood at the foot of the stairs.

"Can I be of any assistance, sir?" he asked, presenting the drinks tray.

"Yes…" murmured the Doctor in reply. "Mr Baden…did he have any enemies? Rivals? Anyone who'd be willing to kill him?"

"Not that I know of, sir,"

"Right. Now, the whole aspect of the murder is interesting. Because, I did a quick check before, around the grounds of the house. The whole perimeter is surrounded by a path, made of stones and pebbles, right? So, if the killer jumped out of a window on the second floor, they would've disrupted the pattern, the surface of the path. But, it's all smooth,"

"And," the Doctor added "There's no footprints or major dents in the grass around the path, so either the killer never landed on the grass, or weighed 30 pounds,"

"Is it possible that the killer made it to the lower floor and escaped that way, sir?"

"Doubt it. I was on the stairs for a while, knocked out. Time of death was during my little snooze, so the killer must've still been upstairs,"

"So who do you think did it, so to speak, sir?"

The Doctor grinned for a second.

"It's obvious, isn't it? No motives, no way the killer could've escaped the room without being seen, and the room was locked, to add insult to injury. Any guesses?"

Jenkins paused for a second, before shaking his head in defeat.

"I'm sorry, sir,"

"Oh, suit yourself," the Doctor tutted. "Tell you what, the golden age of detective fiction can't come soon enough. Could you do me a favour? Go to the lawn, collect the others, and meet me here, at the foot of the stairs,"

"Very good, sir…"

Within five minutes, the group were organised in the hallway – Miss Tomlinson still gulping down champagne, Julien crossing his arms, Thomas transfixed on the stairs, Naomi, nervously tapping her fingers against her side, and Jenkins standing, a statue in the forest.

"You may be wondering why I summoned you all here…" drawled the Doctor, stood at the top of the stairs. Slowly, he began to climb down the stairs, each footstep a melodramatic click on the wooden panelling. "The answer to the problem…who killed Mr Baden?"

However, his reverie was interrupted as he missed a step, and tumbled down the last few of the steps. Fortunately, he managed to land on his feet, shaving away most of the embarrassment. He continued nonetheless:

"The killer is quite obvious, when you think about. Sometimes, the key to solving an impossible murder such as this, sometimes isn't the who, or the why, but the how. I woke up on these steps, and that was for a reason, wasn't it? You'll all think it's a coincidence, and that's fine, but I don't. Because, if I was asleep on these stairs, the killer couldn't come down the single flight of stairs in the house, and would be trapped up there,"

"Of course, that doesn't actually make a blind bit of difference to the killer. They couldn't've walked down the stairs even I wasn't there. There's always and only three solutions to a locked room mystery – just three. One, the killer was never in the room. Two, the killer found a way out of the room, or three, the killer never left the room. Apply this logic, and the answer becomes clear. Back this up with the fingerprints on the weapon, and the answer reveals itself. Mr Baden was murdered…by himself,"

The crowd gasped with shock.

"It's rather simple when you think about it," the Doctor added. "Locked room, no motives. His fingerprints were on the weapon, by the way,"

"But…why would he kill himself?" Jenkins asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Because…" the Doctor answered. "He was clever. The weapon of choice was this…"

He produced the metal rod from his pocket, holding it through a handkerchief.

"It's made out of chronite, a…special kind of metal. It's a completely neutral force in temporal terms. There's a little space inside it; put anything in there, and no time will pass for it. It's hot right now, because it's been storing temporal energy, like a charging battery," the Doctor explained, before pocketing the rod once again.

"A load of rubbish!" exclaimed Miss Tomlinson indignantly.

"Agreed!" added Julien.

"I don't suppose there is evidence to support this, sir?"

Quietly, the Doctor groaned. Not _quite_ the result he had expected.

"Doctor?" asked Thomas, his quiet voice going over the outrage. The protests stopped. "Your friend…what was her name again?"

"Penny. Penelope Lane,"

Thomas' face fell in a second.

"Why?" the Doctor asked. "What's wrong?"

"Doctor, I think you better come with me…" Thomas muttered, running out of the house. After a moment's hesitation, the Doctor followed after him.

Across the vast field of green, two figure, Thomas and the Doctor, hurried across, two specks dashing across the grass. Thomas finally reached what he was looking for –the gravestone, underneath the ancient oak tree.

"Thomas? What's wrong?" panted the Doctor, catching his breath. However, he didn't get a reply. Thomas simply pointed at the gravestone, a melancholic look spreading over his face. Confused, the Doctor walked over to Thomas' angle of the gravestone.

Engraved upon the stone were the words:

HERE LIES PENELOPE LANE, 1804-1831

REST IN PEACE


	7. Chapter 7 - Penny the Vampire Slayer

7 – Penny the Vampire Slayer

"There are several different ways to kill a vampire," Balthazar said, stood up in front of the others. "Stake through the heart, sunlight, beheading, to name a few,"

"Will cutting the head off kill a vampire?" asked the chambermaid.

"I think lobbing off the head'll kill most stuff," Penny remarked dryly, still sceptical.

"Did you prepare the grave like I asked?" Balthazar said, ignoring Penny.

"Yes, Mr Havisham dug it this morning,"

"Sorry, what?" Penny asked, interjecting into the discussion. "What grave?"

"Balthazar here called ahead last night. He asked us to dig a grave by the oak tree, ready for tonight," explained the chambermaid.

Penny turned to Balthazar.

"You planned this?" she said, not so much asking as accusing.

"It…was intended to lure the vampire into the trap," Balthazar confessed, shifting his gaze into the corner of the room.

"What about Lady Dorothy?!" exclaimed Penny. Balthazar extended his hands in sorrow:

"You must believe me, I never intended for that to happen…"

"Still happened though, didn't it?!"

"Penelope, it will be worth it when we put this…this demon to rest!"

Balthazar took a few deep breaths, venting the air and rage throughout his system.

"It doesn't matter what I do, how long I watch them for, it always gets to them. It follows me through life, and plucks it's victims from this mortal coil when I cannot see it!" he spat at Penny, the anger overpowering him. "And I shall stop it tonight!"

Penny stopped, stunned by the remark.

"Let me see your teeth," she ordered quietly, staring at Balthazar's mouth.

"What?"

"Let me see your teeth," Penny repeated defiantly.

"Why are we wasting time focussing on my teeth?! There's a vampire we have to catch!"

"You've nothing to lose, Balthazar," said Thomas, standing up to meet him. "You might as well show us,". Balthazar stepped back a foot or so, agape.

"This is ridiculous…!" he muttered. "Fine. If it will allow you to comply…so be it,"

He bared his teeth, exposing the yellowing stalagmites and stalactites inside the cave of his mouth. They were crooked, irregular and in need of a good dentist…but they weren't fangs.

"You see?" insisted Balthazar. "Now do you trust me?"

"Yes, I suppose so…" Penny muttered, grabbing Balthazar by the jacket. "Look, maybe you should get some sleep. You seem a bit…taut,"

"What?! Oh, yes, I suppose so…" sighed Balthazar, dropping into the nearby chair wearily. "Half an hour should do it…"

He padded through the door quietly, like a marionette being dragged across the stage. Thomas slammed the door shut behind him, granting the group privacy.

"Okay, give it five minutes," Penny said, locking the door. "Just in case I'm right,"

"Right about what?" asked the chambermaid.

Penny answered by producing something from behind her – the metal rod.

"Got it from his pocket. Not all that hard to pickpocket, after all that vampire hunter guff,". Thomas grinned at Penny.

It didn't know. It didn't think, it didn't acknowledge, it just did. It broke through the flesh, and forced its way through the solid wooden door. Nothing could stop it now.

The deep red fluid ran into the goblet, almost brimming over the surface of the glass. Penny raised the glass, and took a large gulp of the wine.

"How long do we wait?" the chambermaid asked nervously, as she replaced the bottle on the table.

"I'm not sure…" Penny replied, subconsciously glancing over at the door. "I've never done anything like this before…"

The door flew open, tiny splinters of wood scattering through the air. Thomas instinctively leapt to his feet, to be met by a snarling, savage beast. Six foot tall, teeth bared and vicious…and cold grey eyes taking in the scene. It was Balthazar.

Balthazar grabbed Thomas in a second, and pulled his neck close. Streams of crimson blood flowed from Balthazar's jaw, dripping onto the floor. The chambermaid began to heave and scream, a poor combination.

"Leave him!" called Penny, throwing the wine bottle at Balthazar, and then the glass. No effect. The vampire tossed the writhing body of Thomas aside, before heading for Penny. "No, no!" she cried, before heading towards the window.

As the rain continued to pelt down on the grass, Penny charged across the grass, her arms flailing wildly in front of her. Balthazar was gaining on her, thundering across the ground like an out-of-control train. The chase reached the oak tree, the smouldering branch still on the ground.

Now, Penny could see it. Not far from where the branch had hit was a small ditch, 7 foot long, 3 foot wide and 6 foot deep. A grave. She leapt over it in a single bound, rolling across the grass as she landed on it, carrying the momentum.

Balthazar approached, slowing as he approaches the grave.

"Don't come any closer…" warned Penny, pulling out the metal rod. The vampire continued its stalk nonetheless, walking around the edge of the grave. Penny followed suit, only in the opposite direction. Like the figures on a clock.

Now, the two were on the opposite sides of the grave, the seven foot of the grave between them. Balthazar paused for a second, before leaping across the grave towards Penny. In a flash, she plunged the rod forwards, and caught Balthazar in the chest. He froze in mid-air for a second, his face fallen with sorrow, before dropping into the grave, like a sack of potatoes.

Penny stood there for a while, gasping for breath and in shock, over the body in the ground. She dropped the rod to the ground, letting it thud for a second.

"Miss Lane!" cried the chambermaid, as she ran across the grass, still a good distance away yet. However, before she could reach Penny, the latter had vanished in a flash of white light…


	8. Chapter 8 - The Man Who Wasn't There

8 – The Man Who Wasn't There

Penny awoke with a start, gasping for breath once more. Quickly, she checked her right hand once more – the mark was fresh again, singed into her flesh.

Next, she took in her surroundings. The house was she left it a few hours ago – the crowd of supernaturalists watching her eagerly, Powell, with his hanging flesh, and the faint candlelight illuminating the hall.

"Penny!" cried Powell.

"What…." Penny began, still rather entranced "what happened?"

"You vanished, my dear. The man who wasn't there, he must've taken you!"

"Well, I'm back now," Penny muttered, as she rose to her feet. "Is the Doctor about?"

"No?"

There was one more flash of white on the stairs – and the Doctor tumbled through.

"Penny!" he cried, extending his arms to her, before turning to face Powell.

"Doctor, what on earth happened there?" gasped Powell, eyes wide with bewilderment. "There was a great…white light!"

"That's funny, Powell…" the Doctor muttered "because that's something you've seen before. Not now, of course. Back in '24, of course,"

The crowd gasped in shock – somehow, the Doctor seemed to be getting sick of this.

"I beg your pardon?!"

"Baden and Powell, the owner of Morgan's Way. Bit unoriginal. Penny, do you know what happens if you are to stab someone with a Chronite rod such as this? Well, at first, they die. But this is a neutral source of time energy. After a short while, the wound vanishes. Perfect way to fake your death. Because, for a while, you _are_ dead. Then, you resurrect. Only works with humans, of course. Completely ineffectual with vampires," he added, with a wink at Penny.

Powell stared agape at the Doctor.

"You've been looking for this for a very long time, haven't you, Powell?" the Doctor asked, pulling out the metal rod. "Around 90 years, in fact,". Upon seeing the rod, Powell's mouth fell open, the muscles unable to clamp it anymore.

"I'm been looking in the four corners of the world…" he stammered "for most of my life. And you had it all of this time!"

A sudden bolt of energy rang through Powell. He charged towards the Doctor, staggering up the stairs towards him.

"Now, I should warn you," the Doctor said "that grabbing the rod will be a very, _very_ bad idea, alright?"

"Shut up!" snapped Powell.

"Suit yourself," muttered the Doctor, backing away.

Now, the Doctor was stood against at the wall at the top of the stairs, Powell a yard away.

"Catch!" the Doctor yelled, as he tosses the rod at Powell. For a second, it pirouetted in the air, before Powell grabbed it. The moment the jagged metal touched the wizened man's skin, the white light grew, and exploded, sending waves of the energy all over the room.

As it faded, there was nothing left behind. Only a small pile of ash, on the top step, which was scattered in a silent gust of wind.

Penny stepped into the TARDIS, shutting the door behind her.

"Doctor?" she called, searching around the console room.

"Yes?" he called back, emerging from underneath the console, tools in hand.

"Can you explain something to me?"

"I can try…go on?"

"Well," Penny started "what's happened to Powell?"

"When he touched the rod, the time energy…stuff contained in the rod overloaded. It'd been building up for hundreds of years, and the fresh connection…shorted it out. He is the Man Who Wasn't There,"

The Doctor grinned for a second.

"Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there. There wasn't there again today…how I wish he'd go away…"

"Antigonish?"

"Precisely! Interesting example of a free lunch paradox. He called the group, and us, here because of the ghost. We got sent back, brought the chronite into the present, which he grabbed and became the ghost. A time loop. Yes, that seemed to be the running theme here...time loops. A trifecta of times, and a trifecta of loops,"

Smiling away, the Doctor flicked a switch on the console, and the rotor began to thrum away, taking them through time and to adventures unknow…


	9. Chapter 9 - Epilogue

The chambermaid hurried back inside the house, cutting out the rain and wind.

She crouched down to the groaning, shivering body of Thomas, checking his wound.

"It looks pretty mad..." she murmured to him, checking the constant flow of blood from the neck.

"Is...is Balthazar..." Thomas whispered, unable to finish the sentence.

"Yes, in the grave. What do we do with him?"

"Two birds with one stone, I think. Fill it in, have a tombstone arranged for it. Here lies...Penelope Lane,"

The chambermaid stopped, surprised.

"Why ever would we write that?"

"It's an old joke..." Thomas explained, before correcting himself. "A new joke...don't bother with a doctor, my dear. My time has come...yes, time...it's over for me. Good morning, my dear...good morning,"


End file.
